


No Longer Human

by slowjaems



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Grim Reapers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Insomnia, M/M, Past Character Death, also the idea of souls in the afterlife, jaehyun is the grim reaper - kind of, lots of insight into life after death, mentions of hell and heaven, ty is a depressed uni student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 01:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17397503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowjaems/pseuds/slowjaems
Summary: “There was a robbery at a store we both were in last night.” Taeyong says finally, steeling through his anxiety. He takes a shaky breath then before asking as bravely as possible, “Did you have anything to do with it?”“I didn’t kill the woman that died, if that’s what you mean.” Jaehyun answers calmly, face and body language void of any signs of lying. As far as Taeyong can tell, he seemed to be telling the truth, a notion that makes him sigh in relief. But then, he watches as Jaehyun straightens up in his own seat and adds with casual ease, “But I did help her soul pass peacefully into the afterlife.”And that’s when Lee Taeyong promptly chokes on his drink.Taeyong found that the distance between him and humanity seemed to grow everyday. The descent into madness was all too appealing, and the boy in all black with the kind smile didn’t seem to mind watching him fall into the darkness either.





	No Longer Human

 

 

 

 

 

Taeyong couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like lying in bed, tossing and turning until eventually you wore yourself out and passed out in exhaustion. And it wasn’t lying on your side, eyes lolling every so often until the dream world finally welcomed you. Instead, it was as if every part of his being were energized. He felt alive, he felt awake. But also, he felt _tired_. The exhaustion was both heavy and distant, and Taeyong still hasn’t figured out how that is. He felt worn, as if he’s been running some sort of endless marathon. But he also felt vaguely energized, as if he isn’t quite ready to stop running yet. But Taeyong _is_ ready to stop running. He doesn’t care about comfort or good dreams – he just really wants his mind to stop moving for a minute, for his world to just slow down a bit.

He’s never really considered himself a jealous person, but he did envy those who got a bit of relief from the world when they closed their eyes at night and dreamt. When Taeyong closed his eyes in the darkness, nothing stopped. The world kept moving and he continued to be tormented. It wasn’t fair. The world was a very overwhelming place, why wouldn’t it stop for him, even just for a second? His insomnia made him feel a bit mad, simply put. Some days he felt overtly energized and was able to get a lot done. But when his high burned out, he was often left curled up on his bathroom floor, devoid of energy, devoid of life.

Then, there were the days that the lack of sleep really got to him and he ended up in a very bitter, moody state. His friends, Doyoung and Yuta, seemed to have finally discovered the warning signs for these kinds of days. For Doyoung, it was when he’d cook breakfast for them and Taeyong would stare very harshly at the plate of food the younger would put before him. Awkwardness always ensued in which Doyoung would have a very one-sided conversation with himself, and once he’d finish his food, he’d quickly excuse himself for class, giving a rather timid goodbye to Taeyong who’d promptly ignore him. Once the door closed, signaling Doyoung’s departure, Taeyong would crumble to the floor in frustration, drowning in the guilt he felt for being such a horrible friend.

For Yuta, it’s when he calls Taeyong every other evening to drag him out to an arcade or a gaming café with Sicheng (a sophomore theatre major that Yuta denies harboring a crush on). Taeyong tries to keep his voice neutral over the phone, but he really can’t help just how bitter and tired he sounds, some days he’s so frustrated that he outright tells Yuta that he doesn’t feel like thirdhweeling. Yuta will start to complain before he notices the tint to his best friend’s voice. He’ll whine jokingly that Taeyong is so _mean_ before promising to win plushies if he’s going to the arcade or if he goes to the gaming café, to stop by the store and get cake and ice cream and a good movie. He keeps his promises too. On the nights that Yuta returns from the gaming café with a grinning Sicheng in tow, he brings a Spiderman cake, vanilla ice cream, and a Ghibli movie, usually _Howl’s Moving Castle_ because he knows it’s Taeyong’s favorite.

The three of them would get comfortable on the couch and enjoy a movie night, and somewhere in the middle of the movie Doyoung would come shuffling tiredly out of his room after having pried himself from late night studying. He’d shove himself in between Yuta and Taeyong. First, he’d glance at Taeyong, as if checking on him, and when he sees that the elder is very engrossed in the movie, shoving mouthfuls of ice cream in his mouth as if on autopilot, Doyoung would smile in content before turning to Yuta and complaining about him eating directly out of the ice cream carton. This would lead to a very loud argument between the two that just left Sicheng, who had grown accustom to the spectacle and would simply continue watching the movie, cake icing smeared around his mouth as his head lolled against the couch in steadily oncoming slumber, and Taeyong. When both Doyoung and Yuta began to move around, limbs flailing as their spat turned into play fighting, Taeyong would tighten the draw strings on his hoodie until his face was completely obscured, and then, he’d cry. He was never too sure why nights like that always reduced him to tears. Maybe it was because he felt bad, that he had treated his friends so poorly and they still took care of him. They didn’t fully understand why he was moody some days and fine the others, but they were trying. And Taeyong was touched, but he was also ashamed. So maybe that’s what they were, tears of joy and shame, and just like with everything else wrong in the world, he’s still trying to figure out how that can be.

Worse than his moody days are the days when he completely succumbs to his exhaustion. Those days would probably reduce him to tears too, if he even had the strength to cry. They always started off so terrible. His alarm would go off on his night stand, but he’d already be awake. He’d make no move to cut off the insist buzzing of his phone and his brain wouldn’t seem to kickstart, ready to start the day, to figure out what classes he had, when he’d be able to have lunch, and what assignments he could complete in between classes. Instead, there was _nothing_. His mind would be blank, and that is how Taeyong would know. But knowing would do nothing, and he’d simply remain there. He’d lay in his crumbled heap, cocooned in the covers, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Eventually, his alarm will shut itself off, cloaking the room in silence once more. And it’s not heavy, it’s not unnerving – it’s nothing, and Taeyong would feel _nothing_. After an hour or so, Doyoung would peek his head in, as if about to approach some sort of wounded creature. Usually, when Taeyong wasn’t like this, he would jump up and breeze through his morning routine. And because he was the kind of person who couldn’t function properly or get anything done without background music, he was always blasting his playlists in the morning. So, the silence in the apartment was always Doyoung’s queue that it was one of those days.

And on those days, he’d come into Taeyong’s room on light footsteps, despite the carpet already being soft enough to mask any heavy footsteps. He’d plug a charger into Taeyong’s dead laptop before placing textbooks for the assignments that were due that day (courtesy of the white board on the Lee boy’s wall covered in numerous due dates) on top of the elder’s desk. And then, he’d make a cup of tea and grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator that he’d place on Taeyong’s night stand. He knew Taeyong wouldn’t eat in such a state, that instead he’d have to drag him out later for lunch or dinner. Finally, before leaving for his own class, Doyoung would bring his Rilakkuma plushie that Yuta had bought him for his birthday and tuck it in beside Taeyong as if the plushie will protect Taeyong from the darkness trying to encase him. It never does, but Taeyong appreciates both Doyoung and the Rilakkuma for their efforts. It had been hard trying to figure out what was wrong with him, how he could lie in bed for hours, feeling nothing, how some days he was so sensitive he’d have a breakdown over the slightest inconveniences, but mostly how he became accustomed to it all. He grew used to it, the gloominess, the _blue_.

“We think you’re depressed.” Doyoung had said one day during dinner. They had been sitting in an awkward silence because it had been one of Taeyong’s really bad days. He’d accidentally snapped at Yuta when the younger had joked that the book Taeyong was reading was boring. Usually, Taeyong would respond that Yuta only read manga, so his opinions on great literary works shouldn’t even be considered. Yuta would always pout in mock offense before grumbling that Taeyong was so _mean_ , and Taeyong himself would usually grin before Doyoung would change the subject. Instead, that time around Taeyong had said something a bit harsher, which resulted in Yuta actually being offended, and the Japanese boy was left to sift his chopsticks around in his noodles with a forlorn expression. Taeyong had felt horrible, but before his guilt could consume him that time, Doyoung had reached across the table and gripped his hand with a gentle smile, “Don’t worry, we’ll help you get through it.”

“Yeah, we’ll always be here.” Yuta added, perking up as if Taeyong hadn’t hurt his feelings mere seconds ago. The Japanese male had placed his hand atop Taeyong’s free one with an assuring smile as well, and that’s all it had taken for them to come – the tears, _God_ , Taeyong _hated_ the tears. They always came too easy, and by now he knows they’re not a sign of emotional distress, but instead a response to his emotional distress. When he was angry enough, he cried. When he was frustrated beyond measures, he cried. And when the sadness came, he cried. Taeyong has really come to despise tears.

 That had been a few months ago, and as of lately, Doyoung’s promise to help him “get through it” seemed to keep lingering in the back of his mind. The part of him that wasn’t emotionally overwhelmed had wanted to ask them what they would be getting him through. Was it the depression? In that case Taeyong kind of wanted to laugh, though there was nothing really amusing about it. His depression was like a black cavern, obscuring him from reality, from the possibility of happiness and contentment, and it kept him prisoner there in his cage of self loathing and misery until it was satisfied. And then, it’d release him to walk cautiously back into reality. Taeyong had thought that maybe if he took different routes to being okay that maybe he’d make it there, to being okay for once. But he found that no matter the path he took, his depression was lingering around every corner, waiting to snatch him back into its bleak obscurity. So, no, there was no way out or even through it. But Doyoung and Yuta didn’t know that, and Taeyong didn’t have the heart to tell them otherwise.

 Taeyong realizes that the road to recovery isn’t easy, at all. But he wants to try, and he figures the least he can do is start with his lack of sleep. In the twenty-four-hour pharmacy, he eyes the copious shelves of sleeping pills. They all promise to be “non-habit forming” and ensure “a great night’s rest”, and Taeyong really hopes this is one of those times where advertisements don’t lie. The lights in the pharmacy are starting to burn his eyes and the fatigue weighing his body down is starting to make him feel light headed. So Taeyong just grabs a purple box with the words “fall asleep within minutes!” strewn across the front and turns to make his way to the register. Startled, the dark-haired male jumps slightly, a soft, surprised noise slipping from his mouth because he nearly ran into someone.

“Sorry” He blurts out, turning the box of sleeping aids in his hands so that only the back is visible. It was pointless, of course, considering they were on the aisle for sleeping aids, but Taeyong still felt a bit self-conscious, nonetheless. His insomnia was just another thing that kept him from feeling normal, from being just like everyone else.

“It’s okay.” A voice that Taeyong finds very familiar assures, and that’s when the dark-haired male actually looks at the person in front of him. In black sweats with a black hoodie, the hood part slung casually over their head, they stood with their hands tucked in the pockets of their jacket. Damp spikes of brunet hair peeked beneath the hoodie and deep dimples formed due to the awkward smile on the face of the boy they belonged to. Taeyong recognized him distantly as one of the people who also sat in the very back of their Literature class. Since he never payed attention when roll was called until he knew his own name would be called, Taeyong couldn’t really put a name with the face before him. He didn’t really want to engage in pleasantries either. Conversations that he had to start himself made him nervous, and he was much more focused on getting home and trying out his new sleeping aid.

“Well, have a good night.” Taeyong says and it sounds every bit as awkward as it did in his head. He smiles in what he hopes is a decent, polite manner before making move to walk past the other boy. He thinks he may be imagining things, but it’s almost as if the brunet boy shakes his head in amusement.

“You too.” He can hear the other boy say as he walks away, “See you in class tomorrow, _Taeyong_.”

And _oh_ , Taeyong thinks. So, he was right, the boy was in his Literature class, and he seemed to know Taeyong’s name. This was all perfectly okay except the shiver that ran through Taeyong’s spine afterwards. For some reason, the light, quiet manner in which the boy emphasized his name did not sit well with him. It was almost as if the brunet knew something that Taeyong didn’t. But that didn’t quite make sense. Taeyong didn’t really know the boy, besides the fact that he sat in the back of their Literature class. And the boy didn’t really know Taeyong, besides his name. So then why was Taeyong starting to feel so weird? Glancing back to get another peek at his mysterious classmate, Taeyong can’t suppress a second shiver when he finds that the aisle is now empty, and the boy is long gone. Either the boy was really fast in heading to a new aisle or Taeyong took much longer in his thoughts than he realized. Either way, he really wanted to leave the pharmacy and the strange boy behind, so he hurries to the register, placing his box of sleeping aids down before digging around for his wallet. An older woman is working the register, looking both bored and annoyed as she scans the item before reading off the total quietly. Taeyong manages to find his wallet, he digs around before handing the cashier the exact amount in cash. The woman accepts the payment, tossing it in the register before snatching the receipt and handing it to the dark-haired boy.

“Have a nice night.” She grumbles blandly before turning her attention to nothing in particular.

“Thank you, you too.” Taeyong says, accepting the receipt with a small, polite bow. He grabs his sleeping aids then and hurries towards the exit. When he steps out into the night, the cool air that grace his skin is welcoming. The streetlight above the pharmacy’s exit is blown, cloaking the area in _darkness_. And as he makes his way to his car in the empty parking lot, Taeyong thinks it’s fitting.

 

 

 

 

 _____________

 

  


 

 

 The sleeping pills work, as good as they can for someone like Taeyong. He doesn’t remember falling asleep last night but waking up lets him know that his insomnia hasn’t quite gotten the best of him yet. He doesn’t feel refreshed or very energized, but he isn’t really complaining. The mere fact that he slept through the night was enough for him. He gets up and breezes through his morning routine without issue. His music of choice today is a playlist of acoustics from Youtube. He felt calm and somewhat prepared for the day and his music choice reflected just that. At one point, Doyoung, having heard the music, peeks his head in somewhat hesitantly. When Taeyong pauses in trying to find his French textbook to give him a small smile, Doyoung outright beams before busting into the room and going on a tangent about his day yesterday and the awful Organic Chemistry partner he had been assigned. Taeyong listens well, finding that for once that he could actually pay attention to details and actively participate in the conversation. The two engage in their old, familiar playful banter the entire morning, even when they’re finally both dressed and fed and heading out of their apartment for the short walk to their university.

Doyoung is practically glowing with some unforeseen excitement, even when Yuta comes falling into step beside them and jokes that his orange sweater looks like throw up. And Taeyong really wishes that he hadn’t always been so blue, then maybe his friends wouldn’t be so ecstatic because for once he could partake in life. If he got better, there would be more days like this, one’s where Doyoung actually smiled and Yuta joked without care. And Taeyong felt good, that there could be more days where he felt good. And how terribly he wanted more of it all. When its time for them to go their separate ways, Doyoung to Anatomy, Yuta to Computer Animation, and Taeyong to Literature, Taeyong makes a promise to himself that he will get better. And in turn he makes an internal promise to his friends that there would be more days like this. As he makes his way through the halls of the Humanities building, he feels the best he’s felt in a while. His classroom is on the first floor and as usual, he’s one of the first to arrive.

He didn’t like attracting attention to himself, so he tried to show up as early as possible, so he could walk to the back in comfort. He sits in the very back far corner where he can hide behind the person in front of him when the professor starts to call on people. He knows he shouldn’t live like this, hiding from everything, but sometimes human interaction terrified him, and he didn’t know why. Anxiety was the best way to describe it, but he didn’t know why he was so anxious to begin with. He figured he didn’t have much control over his mind or body as he thought and when he did open his mouth to speak, he could always say or do the wrong thing and end up horribly embarrassing himself. The thought _terrified_ him. It scared him so badly that he decided to stay in the back and fidget his way through nearly an hour of class each day. It was awful, but somehow, Taeyong manages. There’s still five minutes left until class and that’s when the rest of his classmates will come filing in, as if they had every intention of being on time in the first place. To pass the time, the dark-haired boy pulls his phone from his pocket and reads the notifications. There are a few texts from his sister, asking if he’s okay. There’s one from Mark, asking if Taeyong can help him with his Philosophy paper. Taeyong makes note to respond to them later, instead he’s more interested in the news notification at the very top.

 

 

 

 **_Breaking News:_ ** _Twenty-Four Hour Pharmacy robbed! One dead, no witnesses._

 

To Taeyong’s absolute horror, when he swipes the notification for the news alert, an article for the story pops up and he’s greeted with a picture of the very same pharmacy he had bought the sleeping aids from last night. He scans through the article, dread making his hands shake slightly as he does so. A painful twisting wrenches his stomach when he reads that the cashier from last night had been shot in the robbery and was now dead. He remembers how irritated the woman had seemed. She probably had been having a long night and couldn’t wait to go home. But, Taeyong realizes… she never even made it. He’s not sure how many times he reads that particular sentence. Forty-one-year-old female cashier shot and killed – shot and killed… shot and _killed_. The woman was dead, moments after Taeyong had encountered her, she had _died_. The thought made him feel sick.  He scrolls further down the article, catching sight of another peculiar sentence. – _the robbery which took place at approximately 1:05 A.M. that night_ \- Taeyong stops there.

1:05 A.M. … but he had left the Pharmacy at 1:00 A.M. That was the time that had flashed across his phone when he checked it before pulling out of the parking lot that night. So, he had missed the robbery by five minutes. He had escaped death by five minutes. The thought does nothing to comfort him. As if to make matters worse, his classmates start piling in, dragging along sluggishly and plopping down in their seats in their Monday hazes. Taeyong hastily puts his phone away, no longer wanting to look at the article that would haunt him for days after. He needed a distraction, class would be that perfect distraction. However, when he looks up, it’s just in time to see a somewhat familiar face. His wardrobe today consisted of black boots, black jeans, and a black trench coat with a black top underneath, his hair was somewhat messy, but his dimples were still just as visible as he smiled at some of his classmates in passing. Taeyong watches as he makes his way to a desk in the very back, one the opposite side of the room. It was the boy from the pharmacy. The news article flashes in Taeyong’s mind then. _No witnesses_ … But _how_?

As if sensing his gaze, the boy looks up when he’s seated and smiles that Taeyong. The action causes Taeyong himself to quickly look away, ignoring the burning of his flushed face in the process. Seconds later, the professor comes hurrying, holding a folder in one hand and an iced americano in the other.

“Today we’ll be jumping straight into the assignment. You all were assigned to ready Emily Dickenson’s ‘ _I felt a Funeral, in my Brain_ ’ last night. Today you will partner up and write your interpretations of the piece. If they differ, that’s fine, but I will require two separate papers then. You will work on this until class is over. Before you leave please turn it in to me and make sure your names are on it as it will count as both an assignment and your attendance grade.”  Their professor instructs, looking around the room with tired eyes before clapping her hands gently, “Okay, partner up people.”

Taeyong hates working in partners, or anything group related. He was too shy to approach anyone, and no one seemed too keen on approaching him either. He realizes that university is about getting out of your comfort zone, but somehow, even after a few years, he’s still managed to stay in his. It was better that way. That’s why he watches as everyone else scrambles to find a partner. Most of them already know each other and are able to do so rather quickly. As sad as it sounds, Taeyong hopes that he’ll be left without a partner. He preferred working alone anyway. Of course, he’s never been much of a lucky person.

“Mr. Jung, why don’t you go work with Mr. Lee over there?” Their professor, always one with a keen eye, calls from the front of the class. She appears to be talking to the boy from the pharmacy because he perks his head up, looking around for Taeyong. Their professor smiles before calling to Taeyong, “Mr. Lee, please raise your hand so Mr. Jung can find you.”

Taeyong does so hesitantly, wondering how such a small 5’1 woman could be so evil. She looks like a tiny villain, sipping her americano with a satisfied look. Pharmacy boy makes his way towards Taeyong then, carrying his Literature book and a notebook with a pen attached to it. He plops them both down on the desk that he sits in, in front of Taeyong before turning around with a small smile.

“I’m Jaehyun.” He says, and his voice is much more pleasant than it had been the night before. His dimples are faintly visible and for some reason, Taeyong just stares. Jaehyun’s smile turns a bit awkward then, he tilts his head a bit and adds, “And you’re Taeyong.”

“ _Yes_ -“ Taeyong blurts out in a rush, as if just now realizing that Jaehyun is Jaehyun and he is Taeyong. Suddenly embarrassed, he adverts his gaze from the other boy, rubbing his now reddened ear as he murmurs quietly, “I’m Taeyong.”

Jaehyun just stares at him then, and when Taeyong finally meets his gaze the two stare at each other before laughing. For some reason, Taeyong felt at ease. He takes in Jaehyun’s dimples and the easy going smile on the brunet’s lips and he realizes there’s really no need to panic.

“So-“ Jaehyun starts, somewhat serious now as he grabs his book that’s already open to reveal the Dickenson poem, “What did you think of the poem?”

“It was sad.” Taeyong answers simply. But the truth was, it was so much more than that. He had a lot to say but was too afraid to say it because he might slip up and mention his own experiences similar to Dickenson’s. If Dickenson experiencing a funeral in her brain was a reference to her depression, then Taeyong figures that he’s had plenty of funerals in his own brain. And they were more than just “sad”.

“That’s it?” Jaehyun replies, looking rightfully skeptical. He eyes Taeyong carefully then, “You read the entire thing and felt that it was just ‘sad’?”

“I guess there’s more to it then that.” Taeyong says, avoiding the brunet’s intense gaze to look down at the poem once more, “What did you think?”

“I actually don’t know.” Jaehyun answers honestly and when Taeyong looks up, he’s smiling slightly in embarrassment. He watches then as the brunet seems to play in his own hair with a pondering look, “Funerals are equated with loss, but Dickenson never specifies what is being mourned. She mentions that the funeral is taking place in her brain, which is essentially her mind, and then she mentions that the box creaks across her soul. All of this is internal, so I thought it may be in reference to loss after a battle with herself. It’s no secret that she was depressed during her lifetime, so I figured that perhaps this was insight into someone losing that battle. The funeral is taking place for the speaker’s sanity. The mentions of silence and solitary also really led me to believe this was about some sort of depression. But the ending is still unclear to me … ‘a Plank in Reason broke and they ‘Finished knowing-- then- ‘… what does that even mean?”

Taeyong hums in response. Jaehyun was well-spoken and very insightful, it seemed. Taeyong had a similar analysis of the poem. For some reason Dickenson’s words really spoke to him. Perhaps because he too knew what it was like to mourn your own sanity – after all, he did so nearly every day.

“I think it’s some sort of realization, that they’re burying their sanity or whatever was left of them. It’s almost like an acceptance. Reasoning came first and then finally the knowing.” Is Taeyong’s hesitant explanation. It made no sense, he realized vaguely, or at least it did to himself. Still, he watches as Jaehyun listens intently before nodding.

“It makes sense now.” He says, smiling gratefully at Taeyong, who hurriedly flips his own notebook open and starts to write in order to distract himself. He writes his name and then Jaehyun’s at the top corner before starting to write their analysis. But just as he starts to write the first word, Jaehyun grabs his hand and stops him. Taeyong visibly flinches – Jaehyun’s hand is cold to the touch. But the Jung boy isn’t deterred. In fact, he smiles at the action, lips quirked slightly as he asks, “Hey, do you want to get coffee after this?”

And in any other case, when someone who wasn’t Doyoung or Yuta asked him out, Taeyong would quickly come up with one excuse or another. But to his surprise, he hesitates before nodding – _yes_. If possible, Jaehyun smiles even wider.

 

 

 

 _____________

 

 

 

 

They go to one of the cafes on campus that Jaehyun claims is his favorite. Taeyong recognizes it as one Doyoung is always begging him to go to. But Taeyong likes routine, he likes going places he’s familiar with. They made him less anxious, which is why he couldn’t quite figure out why he was so easily going with Jaehyun, a stranger, in comparison to Doyoung, his best friend. But it’s just something else to add to the list of things Taeyong is trying to figure out that came to be. Jaehyun has certain childlike qualities, Taeyong has come to realize. When he wants to know Taeyong’s opinion on something, he stares at Taeyong intently like a child would a parent, to gauge their reaction, he says certain things and then glances at Taeyong to see if what he’s said is wrong or offensive, and when they arrive at the café, he begs Taeyong to let him order for him. Taeyong agrees, because some distant part of him finds Jaehyun cute. And then, he watches in utter horror as Jaehyun orders some sort of drink with enough caffeine in it to make Taeyong’s head spin. His insomnia was going to have a field day when he drank it, he realized with dread. As they wait for their orders, Jaehyun is watching people pass by outside the café window while Taeyong is looking around the café. To his dismay, he notices a small television hung on the wall by the bathroom. The news station is being broadcasted with a picture of the pharmacy displayed in the corner and a very grave looking news reporter speaking.

“Police are asking for any eye witnesses who may have been overlooked to contact authorities with any details about the robbery that took place last night-“

Taeyong quickly adverts his gaze, but in doing so he merely finds Jaehyun staring at him.

“Funny, isn’t it? We were both there last night.” He says, nodding at the small tv in the corner still displaying news footage of the robbery. Taeyong wonders what’s funny about it, but he’s too busy feeling uneasy suddenly. Why was Jaehyun looking like that? There was an odd tint to his gaze that hadn’t been there before. He watches as the brunet shifts in his seat, “You left five minutes before the robbery itself. That’s pretty lucky on your part.”

“It’s actually pretty scary.” Taeyong replies honestly. He tries to act as casually innocent as possible when he peeks over at the other boy and asks, “What about you? I didn’t see you leave after me. You must have stayed. So, you saw the robbery, right?”

Jaehyun opens his mouth to reply, but in that same moment the waiter arrives with their drinks. He places them on the table with a kind smile, both Taeyong and Jaehyun giving their thanks in response. When the man finally turns to leave, Taeyong is expecting Jaehyun to pick up where they left off, but to his surprise (and disappointment), Jaehyun starts to sip on his drink with the upmost casualty. The sight annoys Taeyong. There had been a robbery, a woman had lost her life – there was no time for coffee, Taeyong wanted answers.

“You should try yours. It’s really good.” Jaehyun prompts, pushing Taeyong’s own drink closer towards him with a smile, “It’s a white chocolate mocha-“

“Jaehyun-“ Taeyong interrupts suddenly, surprising himself with his own boldness, “Tell me about the robbery.”

“Are you a detective now?” Jaehyun replies with an amused look. But there was nothing amusing about the situation. And that’s how Taeyong knows – Jaehyun was hiding something. He wanted to know what, but he was afraid of the seemingly endless possibilities. Had Jaehyun truly witnessed the robbery? What if he knew the people involved? Or worse, what if _he_ was involved? What if he shot the woman? Taeyong could feel his blood run cold. Whatever the case, he needed to find out who exactly Jaehyun was and possibly run for the hills if the scenario was truly as bad as he felt it was.

“There was a robbery at a store we both were in last night.” Taeyong says finally, steeling through his anxiety. He takes a shaky breath then before asking as bravely as possible, “Did you have anything to do with it?”

  
“I didn’t kill the woman that died, if that’s what you mean.” Jaehyun answers calmly, face and body language void of any signs of lying. As far as Taeyong can tell, he seemed to be telling the truth, a notion that makes him sigh in relief. But then, he watches as Jaehyun straightens up in his own seat and adds with casual ease, “But I did help her soul pass peacefully into the afterlife.”

And that is when Lee Taeyong promptly _chokes_ on his drink.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Taeyong is an English-Literature major so there will be lots of references to novels, poems, etc. This story itself was inspired by the novel "No Longer Human" by Osamu Dazai. I just finished reading it and it (somewhat) inspired me to write this. Also, a few animes inspired me as well. The rating for this will probably change as it develops and the themes will get very dark at certain points, so please keep that in mid. This won't be the most light-hearted story (as it covers topics like depression and death very heavily), but I hope someone will enjoy it. Thank you for reading!


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